


if it helps you sleep

by triggeringthehealing (froggydarren)



Series: FullmoonFiclet Entries [49]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Beacon Hills, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Future Fic, Gen, Healing, Implied Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore - Freeform, Insomnia, M/M, Nogistune mention, nightmares mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 11:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8247098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/pseuds/triggeringthehealing
Summary: It's been years since Stiles was able to fall asleep easily. It wasn't even the nightmare that was Beacon Hills that caused his ability to drift off to be nonexistent. There were very few times he remembered when he was able to close his eyes, feel safe and content, and sleep. He never mentioned to anyone that they had one thing in common.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Full Moon Ficlet](http://fullmoon-ficlet.livejournal.com/427865.html) challenge on Livejournal - prompt #193: insomnia

Stiles has always been able to fall asleep just about anywhere, and sleep through any noise surrounding him. His Babcia used to tell him that he could sleep through World War 3 raging on around him, and there have been instances even when he was little, when he’d fall asleep in places that most people would never consider. Like when he fell asleep in the middle of a wedding -- he was barely three, and fell asleep in his pushchair right next to the party and dancing going on. 

When he got older, he fell asleep in more and more inventive places: that time in the hospital on chairs definitely not built to be lying on, several times on Scott’s porch, in the break room at the Sheriff’s Station. 

He never had a problem with actual sleeping. Once he was out, it was more of an issue to wake up when he needed to, thanks to his brain’s ability to drown out every noise around him. 

The thing that was never easy, and the one that only got worse with time and experiences he’d been through, was the part where he was supposed to close his eyes and purposely try to fall asleep. Because whenever he tried, his brain would decide to pummel him with thoughts, fears, and all the things that  _ needed _ attention right then. The internal noise that was so convenient when it came to keeping the outside noise away was exactly what prevented him from being able to relax enough to drift off. 

Of course having been through the type of crap that the pack went through in their high school years caused even the others sleep issues. For Stiles, the consequences felt a little lighter at first, since he was already familiar with the struggle that falling asleep could be. But then came the Nogitsune, and on top of already existing problems it added to his anxiety; after that falling asleep became almost impossible, even years later. 

When the pack came back together, and when even Derek returned to town, they all started to hang out a few times a week for bonding and movie nights. They changed the places where they met, and eventually figured out that after everything horrific that they survived, piling together helped all of them to settle and shake off the memories. Several months after the first puppy pile they were all sleeping better, and healing from the wounds. At least most of them were. 

“When was the last time you slept through the night?” Lydia asked Stiles after one of the pack nights. 

They were all at his house, and she stayed behind after everyone left home the morning after. Stiles wanted to dodge the question, but there was nowhere to escape, and Lydia was pinning him down with a disapproving -- and worried -- glare. 

“Tonight,” he shot back, because he  _ did _ sleep. That wasn’t the problem, and by the way Lydia’s eyes narrowed in disapproval, she knew that too.

“Fine, be an asshole,” she told him, shaking her head. “When’s the last time you fell asleep before midnight?”

And that was the prize question. Stiles genuinely couldn’t remember.

“A while ago,” he admitted grudgingly. 

The last thing he wanted was for anyone to worry too much. He knew how hard falling asleep always was for him, so what if his insomnia had become even worse. He wasn’t one to complain about that, not when there had been worse things in all their pasts. In comparison, having trouble sleeping fell very low on the scale of bad things, and more in the vicinity of mild inconvenience. 

“I thought you were getting better,” Lydia said quietly, sitting down next to him on the couch. 

“I am,” he replied. “No, really, I  _ am _ ,” he repeated when Lydia’s face showed her disbelief. “After the Nogitsune, I could barely get two hours at once. And there were nightmares, you know this.”

Lydia nodded, and they both frowned at the memories. There wasn’t a pack member who didn’t remember Stiles waking up either shaking or worse, screaming, back then. Nowadays, he was more likely to not remember his dreams at all, good or bad, and he was glad about that. 

“It wasn’t much better when I left,” he told her.

Few people knew about his sleeping patterns in college, or how he got a single without requesting it when it became clear that having a roommate was more a hindrance than help. 

“But it’s been getting better,” Stiles continued. “I slept through the night, and that’s still rare. It helps when the pack is around.” 

“Yeah,” Lydia whispered. “Yeah, that helps.”

He knew she had a bad time through the years, like the rest of them. They all lost so much, had so many memories that people outside their circle would only know from horror movies. But while Stiles’ issues with sleep were known to everyone, Lydia didn’t talk about her own so much. 

“Jackson helps,” she said quietly. “I didn’t realise how much he did until he came back, but now… I keep waking up when he’s not there.” 

“Is he staying?” Stiles asked with concern.

The pack slowly trickled back into town from whichever corners of the world they’d disappeared to before or after high school graduation. Cora showed up one day in the loft, looking lost when she found it empty, and then tracked down Stiles’ Dad. That earned her a place in their guest room until Derek got back. He only planned to visit and check in but when Cora mentioned that she would like to stick around Beacon Hills, they both stayed. 

Jackson’s return seemed to be playing out in a similar way: he came back to visit his adoptive parents instead of them flying out to London. It happened to coincide with Lydia’s return to Beacon Hills, and Jackson has been around since then, showing no intention of leaving. 

“Yeah,” Lydia said quietly. “Yeah, I think he might be.” 

“Danny’s settled in now, isn’t he?” Stiles asked, knowing that despite the distance and changes in their lives, the friendship between Jackson and Danny somehow survived and remained solid. 

“He’s moving into the new house next week,” Lydia answered, but it sounded like her mind was on something else, and Stiles could easily guess what. 

“Go, I know Jax is going to be wondering why you stayed,” Stiles nudged her shoulder. “Can’t have him go rogue for something that isn’t there,” he added with a teasing grin. 

“Oh he knows you’re not interested anymore,” Lydia said, but she did stand up. “It’s old news, and he knows better than to be a jealous dick.” 

“Excuse me, what if I am still interested?” Stiles asked her with mock offense. 

Lydia only scoffed and rolled her eyes, but there was a smile playing on her lips like she knew something Stiles didn’t want her to know. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, and then she left. 

For a moment, Stiles’ mind wandered back to his high school years, and he thought of how his younger self would have been on cloud nine had she done anything like that kiss back then. He startled when the front door opened again a while later with a creaking sound that reminded him that he needed to fix it. 

“Did you forget something, Lyd? Like the love of your life?” Stiles called out, and stood up to go towards the hallway. 

Instead of Lydia, it was Derek who entered the living room before Stiles moved away from the couch. There was amusement all over his face, something that Stiles was still not used to, and Derek was shaking his head. 

“Didn’t you miss out on the deadline of your ten year wooing plan?” Derek asked, laughter coloring the words. 

“I’ll have you know, it was a fifteen year plan, and I have  _ not _ missed the deadline,” Stiles huffed in response. “If it weren’t for the pesky little details like, you know, true love and all that, bringing kanimas from under their masters’ control…” 

His voice petered out, and he slumped back into the comfortable cushions on the couch behind him. Derek stayed in the doorway, arms crossed, smile still on his lips. 

“Did  _ you _ forget something?” Stiles asked after a few beats, when Derek showed no sign of the reason he was there. 

“The love of  _ my _ life,” Derek shot back with a completely blank face and not a hint of amusement. 

Stiles’ jaw dropped. He closed his mouth, then opened it again to say anything, but no words came out. As Derek’s comment ran through his mind again, Stiles blinked a few times, still at a loss for a reaction. 

“What?” 

When he finally blurted out the question, glad he was able to get out at least one word, the corner of Derek’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly. Stiles did notice though, and his eyes widened as his brain processed it. 

“You’re such an ass,” he finally said, falling back into the cushions behind him. 

“Couldn’t help it,” Derek told him as he walked closer, and sat down on the other side of the couch. “Your face was priceless.” 

Stiles stared in amazement, unused to the lightness in Derek’s tone, and to the teasing that he’d expect from other people. Mostly from himself, really. 

“Who  _ are _ you?” 

He blurted out the question, his voice filled with disbelief. 

“Stiles, we’ve been through this,” Derek said with obviously fake sincerity, mock concern in his face. “The aliens are  _ not _ after your brain, and the pack wasn’t replaced by pod people.” 

It took a beat, but then Stiles grabbed one of the smaller cushions, and tossed it at Derek’s face. He didn’t miss that Derek was finding it hard to keep his poker face on, and that there were lines around his eyes from the laughter he was trying to hold back. Stiles wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed at the teasing or impressed that Derek was in a place where he’d learned how to. 

“Seriously, you’re such an asshole,” Stiles said, but he was laughing too. “It’s perfectly normal that I can’t really comprehend yet that  _ this _ ,” he waved a hand at Derek, “is actually you. Not when I had years of you being a very different person.” 

That sentence made Derek somber a little bit, and Stiles immediately felt like he should apologise. He didn’t mean that the change in Derek was a bad thing, it was just hard to rearrange expectations. And that was before Stiles began filing all the new expressions Derek now apparently had into the shockingly tidy compartments in his brain. That made everything more complicated instead of simple, which was the intended goal. But even though he didn’t say it out loud before, Stiles did like the “new” Derek. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I like this new you, even if it means that most of your jokes are at my expense,” he said when he saw that Derek’s face continued to fall. “And please don’t tell me that I’m an easy target, everyone is aware of that. Puny human and all that jazz,” Stiles shrugged. 

“Stiles,” Derek sighed, exasperation ringing through his tone. “If anyone in the pack thinks you’re a damsel in distress, they should get their head checked.” 

“Distress, yes, ongoing,” Stiles said with a playful grin. “Damsel, not so much. Granted, per definition it’s a young unmarried woman, and I do fit at least two of the adjectives, so technically they wouldn’t be  _ entirely _ wrong to think that.” 

He knew that he was rambling, and only a part of it was to distract Derek from his earlier moment of sadness and -- Stiles saw it too often to not recognize it -- self-doubt. The other part was due to the fact that Derek moved closer, and kept looking at Stiles with concern. 

“You’re not in need of saving,” Derek said. “If anything, you saved the pack more times than any of us can count. That is true for outside threats, though.” 

“So, still at danger from dust mites and…” Stiles paused and glanced around. “Kitchen appliances? I’d give you that one, I can cook, but I’m also a danger to myself when it comes to sharp and hot objects.” 

There was a beat of silence, and Stiles ran his own words through his mind again, only to blush furiously and feel like he wanted to teleport all of a sudden. He  _ was _ clumsy around kitchen gadgets, but the “sharp and hot” applied to more than just knives and cookers. 

“I was thinking more in the lines of barely resting enough to not die of  _ sleep deprivation _ ,” Derek told him, his voice extra rough with the last two words. 

“Aw, you care,” Stiles blurted in a tone that was bordering on mocking, but carried just enough amusement that he was hoping would help offset the mockery. 

“Why the hell do you think I’m here?” Derek asked, anger rising in his face. 

“Derek?” 

They stared at each other for a while, Derek tense with frustration and anger, Stiles shell-shocked at Derek’s question and all the things it was implying.

“I know you’re not sleeping well,” Derek said after a while, when the lines on his face moved into different places that didn’t show anger. 

“When have I ever been good at sleeping?” Stiles shot back the usual response that he used for Scott, for Lydia, for his Dad… for anyone he knew would even remotely believe it. 

“I remember you sleeping a lot better than you do now,” Derek replied, the frown on his face deepening and showing concern that Stiles only ever knew from his father’s face. “You used to crash anywhere, anytime.”

“Still do that,” Stiles said with a shrug. “Scott still holds it against me that I fell asleep in the middle of a mission when we were gaming last month.” 

“It’s not the same,” Derek said quietly, and he moved another bit closer.

Stiles felt the heat the moment Derek’s hands reached his legs that he’d pulled up on the couch. He didn’t dare to move, because while Derek had always used touch to intimidate, this kind was still new. It was the kind that was soothing, reassuring, Derek’s thumb slowly moving up and down on the inside of Stiles’ ankles. 

“When we were looking for Boyd and Erica that one summer,” Derek started, and Stiles couldn’t help but smile at the memories, but he didn’t interrupt Derek. “You would fall asleep in the loft and it was a lot easier. Now, I know that you only do that when you’re absolutely exhausted,” Derek said, and Stiles’ eyes widened a little.

Sure, he noticed that Derek was closer to the pack, to every person in it, but Stiles didn’t expect that amount of insight. Or the memories of a summer when it was only them -- and occasionally Peter’s interference -- spending most of their time together, looking for Derek’s pack. 

There was no doubt of the connection between Derek and Stiles’ sleeping ability. That summer, Stiles had been sleeping better because he was in the loft, in Derek’s bed, with Derek always around, always  _ close _ . Never as close as Stiles hoped they’d get, but he knew now that his being young had a lot to do with that. Nevertheless, he could still remember spending the summer reveling in the fact that Derek stopped being his typical rough self, and that they became tentative friends then. 

The same thing was happening, albeit without the isolation from the others, since Derek settled back in town. Stiles knew that, but while he was aware of his own feelings and thoughts, Derek was always at a safe distance. He was a friend, they got that far, and he even played along for the week when Stiles made him a friendship bracelet. Granted, it was made out of a piece of wire he found when he was trapped during one hunt of a rogue Omega, but Derek kept it anyway. That alone made Stiles wonder if the chance that he never thought he had was going to be a possibility. 

Now, with Derek’s warm palm against the exposed skin on his ankle, with the soothing motion of Derek’s fingers on his leg, Stiles figured it was time to give away at least a little. 

“It helps when you’re around,” he said, wondering if his voice was loud enough for werewolf ears. 

When he saw Derek’s eyebrows raise and his eyes widen, Stiles knew his words were heard. 

“Me?” Derek asked, not even trying to hide his surprise. 

“That summer, you were the only person I felt safe around,” Stiles told him, having decided to go for broke. “Scott didn’t care, had other things to do, like moping after Allison. Isaac…” Stiles paused, thinking about how Isaac went from mildly irritating to one of his best friends over the years. “Isaac was barely around. My Dad didn’t know yet, and I couldn’t tell him. And who the hell ever feels safe around Peter?”

“Lyd…” Derek started, but when Stiles frowned, he didn’t continue the thought.

“I told you, that true love thing killed all the chances I ever had,” Stiles said, not leaving any room for further arguments. “You though; you I had hopes for.” 

“What?” Derek asked, startled by the confession. 

“Dude, you’ve seen yourself,” Stiles said with a shrug of his shoulders. “That summer was me figuring out that girls… Lydia… weren’t the only option for me. And it wasn’t Peter who led me to that discovery.”

“I should hope not,” Derek grumbled darkly. 

They both just stared at each other for a while, and Stiles was about to pull his feet out of Derek’s grasp when he felt the movement against his ankle stop. 

“That was years ago,” Derek said, barely breaking the silence.

“Yeah well, I’ve been better at the annoying sleeping thing since Cora convinced you to stay,” Stiles admitted, and he felt his cheeks burn. 

“She didn’t need to do much of that,” Derek mumbled, and Stiles’ eyebrows shot up. “I knew you were staying, so…” Derek added and shrugged his shoulders. 

Stiles’ jaw visibly drops at that admission. 

“You.. dude… you stayed for  _ me _ ?” 

When the question slips past his lips, he immediately thinks that it sounds absurd. Sure, he had people interested in him through college, and even back in town. Those people, for one, didn’t know his whole past though. And, for another, none of them were the guy who helped Stiles discover his bisexuality over the length of a summer when he was still jailbait. 

“A little for Cora, and yeah, a little for you,” Derek whispered, his fingers still against Stiles’ ankle. 

“Oh my god,” Stiles gasped out. “Holy shit,” he added a beat later.

“ _ Stiles _ ,” Derek said with an unhappy tone. 

“Wait, no, dude, I need to…” Stiles waved his hands as he spoke, his brain in overdrive as he processed the new information. “Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?”

Derek, exasperation clear in his face, huffed and then squeezed his hand where it was still wrapped around Stiles’ ankle. 

“I like you,” he said finally, making Stiles let out an undignified little squeak. “If that’s what you thought I was telling you, then yeah.” 

“Oh god, okay, my sixteen year old self is fistpumping somewhere,” Stiles blurted out, and then his hand slapped loudly against his own mouth. 

Derek smiled, and Stiles watched in amazement. Because instead of saying anything else, Derek let go of Stiles’ leg, stood up to take the two steps towards Stiles’ side of the couch, and then kneeled down. Stiles let him move the hand away, he he nodded when Derek’s eyebrow rose in and unspoken question. 

Their lips met halfway, and Stiles’ hand immediately gripped Derek’s shoulder before the kiss had a chance to grow into anything more heated. 

“Wow,” Stiles gasped when Derek pulled away. “Well, something tells me I’m not going to sleep much tonight,” he said in a deadpan tone. 

“It’s barely lunch, Stiles,” Derek said with a fond but exasperated sigh. 

“Oh I know,” Stiles said. “But you’re taking me out for dinner, and after…” 

“I am?” Derek asked and Stiles nodded. “Okay, fine, but if you’re expecting me to put out after the first date…” 

Stiles smirked in response to the smile playing on Derek’s lips. 

“Hey, if you need me to, I can list multiple times, adding up to at least ten, of when we technically have been on a date, only we didn’t know it,” Stiles told him, then added sheepishly, “I may or may not have thought of some of the times we hung out that one summer as  _ dates _ .” 

Derek stared for a while, then leaned back in for another kiss, this one deeper and less innocent. Stiles wondered for a moment if he was just having a hallucination thanks to his lack of sleep, but then Derek gently pushed him backwards into the cushions, and Stiles decided that thinking would have to wait. 

**Author's Note:**

>   
> [my tumblr](http://froggydarren.tumblr.com/) || [my sterek fic tumblr](http://triggeringthehealing.tumblr.com/)  
> 


End file.
